It All Works Out in the End
by walkingarrowofshield
Summary: Hollywood's two biggest celebrities have been casted for the most anticipated movie of the year, but will their tumultuous past prevent them from filming the movie?
1. Chapter 1

The lights blinded her. People called her name.

"Felicity over here! Turn to your left! To your right!"

A lady touched her arm signaling her to take a step to her left. For the same damn angle, same damn picture, same damn pose.

 _It's all a part of the job,_ Felicity scolded herself internally, just smile and they won't notice.  
 _Oh yeah sure, I'll just smile as if my whole world wasn't flipped upside down just now. I'll just smile because that's what I'm expected to do._  
The internal monologue and battle with herself raged in her mind, very much like the battle photographers in front of her are having with each other trying to get the perfect shot.

The same lady again grasped her arm towards the reporters as if Felicity didn't know what she was doing, like she hasn't done this for the better part of her life.

"Felicity! It's so nice to see you!" Her first reporter squealed in excitement as if they were long time best friends.

She doesn't have a best friend. He broke her heart 4 years ago. On this same exact date.

"So, tell me. What are you wearing?"  
"Valentin! It's custom made," she nudged playfully at the reporter "which thank goodness because I just had a big mac in the car ride to get here and if it were any other dress it probably would have already popped."

It's the same charade. Smile, crack jokes, smile, talk, be playful. Tedious. Cyclical. But just the way it was supposed to run.

"So I just heard that Oliver Queen is a front runner to star opposite you in the How to Kill a Rockstar movie. Is that true? Can you give any word on that?" The wind was knocked of her. Her heel buckled. The reporter-Mike?- grabbed her arm just in time to prevent her from falling back. Thank goodness she had a reputation of falling. It just became her scapegoat. Her gasp from the almost tumble gave air back into her lungs. She recovered. Just as she always had.

She heard of the news on the way to the premiere, tainting her well enjoyed big mac. A news she loudly burped in response to, almost vomiting. Damn her anxiety. For just a bit she was able to recollect herself acting mechanical to these award shows, but hearing his name alongside any thought of her made it more real that this was going to happen; she was going to see him.

"What is that? Five, so far?" Mike, if that was really his name or a name she made up for him, teased about her stumble.  
"Just about," Felicity tried to laugh off.  
"So you opposite Oliver Queen in the movie…" He trailed off wanting to know.  
"Oh you sneaky sneaky," she jabbed her pointer finger in the air, mockingly, "I don't know. I don't know! I can't confirm nor deny anything. We'd all have to wait and see. No one tells me anything and pre-production stuff, things always change like casting and stuff… NOT that he's been casted yet. No I'm not saying that. I'm more pointing to myself and how me being casted can change, but you know hopefully not," she rambled.

 _Yikes_ , she reprimanded herself. Word vomit.

"Right. Gotcha," he laughed. He doesn't notice. Of course. They're only interested with what she's wearing.

The damn hand landed on her arm again, signaling it was time to move to the next reporter, time to move to the left again. And everything moves into its place once again. The 'What are you wearing?' How do you feel? Have you prepared a speech? Are you presenting?' And it was a little easier to void her mind of the knot forming in her stomach.

It's been 4 years. Can time really change a person? Can it really heal wounds?

She'll just have to find out.

Her doorbell rang.  
She can ignore it. They can go away.  
It rang again. Ignored.  
It rang again, this time one right after the other.

Dear all the precious cinnamon rolls in this world. Felicity groaned bringing up the covers to her face before forcing herself out of bed. She grabbed her robe and tied it tighter to prevent any sort of slip happening.

She made her way through her house and opened the door. A gargantuan man stood in front of her.

"John.. couldn't this wait?" She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.  
"It could but I'd rather not wait."  
"You know, I just did win a Golden Globe award."  
"Congratulations." Diggle deadpanned.  
"Being my manager, I hoped that you would be more enthusiastic for me." Felicity said, letting him in.

John made his way inside and sank himself on her sofa, Felicity tailing behind him.

"I am. You know I'm so proud of you. But moreover, I'm concerned."  
"About?"  
"Felicity. Don't try to lie to me. You suck at lying. For an actress, you suck at lying."  
Felicity scoffed, "Do not."  
"Do too."  
She rolled her eyes. "Okay. What is it? Shoot. Go."  
"It's about Oliver."  
"John…"  
"Listen, I know you don't want to hear it but this conversation has to happen."  
"You're right."  
"Always am," John smirked.  
"No. About me not wanting to hear it." This time it was John who rolled his eyes.  
"Well it's good then that intruding you at your house is better than ambushing you in public. I think. I don't know. I should try it sometime."  
"I'll never be ambushed." Felicity points out.  
"I'll be damned if you ever were." Felicity chuckled. "So Oliver... I know you two had a past and if this is too uncomfortable for you, I can pull you out of this project."

Any other manager would have pushed her to not pull out of this project. They'd argue about how unprofessional it would be. Yada yada yada…  
But not John. He was more than just a manager. He was one of the smartest person she knows.  
Moreover, he was a friend.

"I've thought about it," Felicity confesses. "But I don't know if I want to pull out of this project. I know what it will mean if I do and I just- I can't."

John gave her a long stare, waiting for the 'Ugh wait I don't know' debate she usually had with herself, but it didn't come. "I just don't want you to feel pressured that's all. You've gotten so far and I'd hate-"  
"Hate for me to give me up, yeah I know."  
"Exactly. You're one of the strongest people I've met. I'll have your back through whatever decision you make."  
"Thanks John, you're the best."  
"I know."

John stood up, opening his arms to pull Felicity in a hug.

"It will all work out it in the end."  
"I hope so."


	2. Chapter 2

_And the winner is Felicity Smoak!_  
 _This is Felicity's first win and fourth Golden globe nomination._

She looks amazing.  
She was amazing.  
She is amazing.  
And he was a douche.

Of course she was poised to win, she had knocked her role of Beatrice out of the park. Oliver turned off the television a mixture of pride and anger swarming in his chest. He ran his hand over his face, stuck in thought. Oh how he'd wanted to be there for her for her first win. He's almost insanely positive that she was going to win the Oscars as well. They had always talked about it when they were still best friends some years ago. But now, well, is now and he lost that privilege to be at her side.

His hands scoured the couch for the remote. Once he finally found it, he quickly turned off the television, shutting up the announcer along with the click of the tv. He got up off the couch and made his way to his room where he changed into a pair of basketball shorts in hopes that an evening run would get his mind off Felicity.

With his key tied to his shoe laces, he was ready to go. Oliver turned off all the lights in his LA apartment leaving the hum of the refrigerator echoing throughout the darkened space. It almost sounded upbeat and positive, but that could just be him. Shaking his head he closed the door, plucking the earphones in his ear. 

The streets of Los Angeles, though always busy, was somewhat more serene as the night settled in the sky. All the major celebrities were at the Golden Globes and the others were preparing for the after parties. But not him.  
Oliver pounded the pavement sweat dripping as Eminem blared in his ears. Without hearing the hustle and bustle of LA, it almost looked magical. City lights twinkled, some shining too bright that was enough to impale eyes that were sensitive to light. People talked animatedly to one another, others yelling, cars zooming ceremoniously through the streets. The air smelled faintly of gasoline chased away by the lingering scent of sand and the ocean, all raveled in the crispness of the winter breeze.  
It was what made Oliver fall in love with Los Angeles. The allure of Hollywood isn't just about the money, fame, and glory. Some people miss the small things, the serenity within the chaos.

A flash of a bulb to his right caught his attention. _Paparazzi_.

Oliver made a beeline to the other street in hopes to shake the one damn paparazzi away. The music played in his ears loud enough that, thankfully, Oliver couldn't hear what he was saying. No doubt it was something obscene. Rarely does he come cross with people with a job like that as a pleasant human being. Maybe they were. Sure. But for the most part they definitely were not civil as they try to take photographs of celebrities all riled up by their snide comments.

Oliver knew that all too well. A little over a year ago he had a drunken altercation with a paparazzi, a dozer as he liked to call them, that had him paying fines more than the letters that supercalifragilisticexpialidocious had in the word, times five. Moreover than that his image was tarnished and no respectable director and producer hired him.

Oliver made a sharp turn at the corner, peaking behind him to make sure he lost the dozer's trail. He didn't see any other dude running after him or any flashes of bulb behind him relinquishing a heavy sigh. He stopped running and put his back against the wall of who knows what building.  
He closed his eyes trying to inhale all the air, the crisp winter breeze, the gas, the ocean to his lungs trying to remind him the reasons why he does love this city. Smell was one of the stronger senses to trigger memories, right?

He opened his eyes in hopes to see the city in a new light, unlike the flash of bulb that dared chase away his fondness of the city.  
The sight that greeted him paralyzed every muscle in his body. Thankfully he was up against the wall or he would have keeled over.  
In attempts to run away from that one damn dozer he managed to run into sixty more. Their backs faced him, though, all attention to what was in front of them- the Beverly Hilton Hotel that currently held the ongoing broadcast of the Golden Globes.

Oliver cursed under his breath, trying to back away as quietly as possible. He prayed that they didn't hear his heart that he was sure was stammering away from his body.  
It took a few more heartbeats pounding in his ear to notice that his music stopped. He grabbed the phone from his pocket and unlocked his screen to find 2 missed calls from Lyla, his manager.  
He quickly backed up away from the sea of dozers putting a good distance from them before dialing Lyla's number. She picked up on the second ring.

"Oliver! How are you? What are you doing? You watching the Globes?"  
"Uh no..," he was actually first handedly witnessing the globes, the outside of it anyways, but he didn't have the energy to explain that whole scene to her. "I'm actually just out for a run. Sorry I missed your calls. You know how tunnel vision I get when working out."  
"Yep. Yup. I know that all too well," she quipped undoubtingly flinging her arms in front of her as she spoke on the other end of the line. "Hey listen, I didn't just call you to call you. That's just weird. Anyways, Anthony LaBount and Gerald Sy just called me and they're interested in you to star in their movie."  
"Really?!" Oliver shrieked before Lyla could say the last word. This was the first time in a year and a half that he was offered anything. Of course having some of Hollywood's top producer and director pining for him to be in the movie had him over the moon. It was an opportunity. A fresh start. "'l'll take it! No doubt I'll take it!"  
"Yeah, uh, that's what I thought you would say. But there is one catch."  
"Yup. What? Anything, I would do, lose fifty pounds, gain fifty pounds, learn a new language, shave my head. What is it? Anything."  
"I hope it was just that easy," she squeaked, "the person you're starring opposite is Felicity Smoak."  
"What?"  
"Felicity Smoak."  
"THE Felicity Smoak?!"  
"None other than."  
"Uh uh no- no thanks . Yeah, no thanks."  
"Oliver-"  
"Lyla… you know what happened with Felicity and I. I don't know if I can do this. This is my first big gig since the altercation and I want to give it-"  
"Your best but you can't give your best when what was best of you is standing right in front of you, reminding you of who you're not anymore," she finished.  
"... Yes."  
"Yeah, I've heard it before," she deadpanned.  
Oliver sighed. "This is a great opportunity. I'll think about it Lyla."  
"You know I'm only pushing you if I didn't know you could do it."  
"I know Lyla. Thank you."

He hung up the phone and quickly discarded the phone in his pocket.

 _Felicity. Felicity Smoak. Felicity Megan Smoak. Felicity. Smoak. It's Felicity._

Her name ran through his mind, memories starting to resurface. Oliver tried to keep them away, gulping loud in response.  
It took him a while to realize that it wasn't only in his head that her name was being continuously shouted. He peaked round the corner to see the dozers all clamoring and screaming trying to get a picture of someone. Oliver tried to peak over heads to see who everyone was losing their shit over.  
He was about to give up in fear that they will spot him instead, but by some damn miracle bodies parted enough to let him peak through.

His breath caught in his throat, bubbles in his stomach making his whole body itchy in distress.

It was her. It was Felicity.

She wore a golden dress that accentuated her tan skin, the fabric ending mid-thigh to show off her toned legs. The hues of yellow lights only further emphasizing every curve of her body.  
She looked like the Adele Bloch-Bauer painting , one that he wanted to take a picture of, blow up to a big canvas, and hang up his living room.

Before he could whip out his phone to take a picture his feet took a mind of its own. His legs started sprinting the opposite direction of the dozers and the hotel, the only words ringing in his ears her last words to him.  
 _Just get out of here._


	3. Chapter 3

"Are you hiding him from me? Where is he? OLIVER!"

"Nope nope nope! Hey. Lyla! No-"

"Where is he?!"

"He's in there! Just calm down!"

Oliver stared at the door, periodically squinting every time he thought it was going to fly open. He could hear Lyla and Tommy's muffled talks, more precisely screams, through the walls that separated them. He could have saved them the trouble and let them in, but he was too hungover to move a muscle. Plus he somewhat enjoyed hearing them bickering over his state of unconsciousness, not realizing he was, in fact, awake and conscious.

"Where's the extra key he had under the rug?"

"Idunno. It's not there."

"Obviously," Lyla pointed out, the exasperation evident in her tone. Oliver could just imagine Tommy smirking, enjoying the the little back and forth they had going.

"Don't worry Lyles, I have an extra key."

"Okay first, never call me Lyles. And second? Never give me another nickname. I will momentarily impale your vocal box."

"Noted. Here."

Oliver heard the jingling of keys followed by his doorknob turning. Tommy walked in first, no doubt being a gauge to Lyla in case the scene inside the house resembled something like the aftermath of a party. He turned on the lights despite the sun beaming into the room, making Oliver squint even harder. The thumping in his head intensified. He closed his eyes willing the pain away.

Lyla set down her purse on the coffee table that housed an empty bottle of Hennessy. Just as she was going to open her mouth to speak, Tommy beat her to it.

"Oliver, what the hell man? We were literally arguing for a good 5 minutes outside to get in here and you were awake all this time?"

"Good entertainment," Oliver mumbled.

"Haha," Lyla feigned amusement, "what in the world happened to you? You fell off the grid two days ago!"

"I needed time to think," Oliver grunted. "Or not think. Just this once."

Lyla and Tommy sighed in harmony, knowing the source of Oliver's distress. It was hard to give him shit when he looked like shit and felt like shit probably for way longer than he sat on his couch.  
It's been four years since her and one and a half since his world fell into a sinkhole deeper than he had already been.

"Oliver, you can't just fall off the face of the earth. You have people that care about you, you know."

"I know. It wasn't really intentional to get hammered-"

"Here, drink this before you give us a paragraph explaining yourself," Lyla interrupted, handing him water and an aspirin.

"Thanks… Like I said, It wasn't intentional for me to get wasted. It just, happened."

"Okay. But it won't happen again right? The no communicating with anyone?" Lyla asked.

"Not happening again."

"Good. And you can handle your liquor?" Tommy this time asked.

Oliver snorted depsite himself. "Of course. It was a tough lesson and a lesson forever seared into my bone."

"Good it's that seriously engraved in you," Tommy joked.

Oliver chuckled, followed by a groan, his abs sore from all the belching his stomach did the prior night. He finally gave up sitting upright and tipped over his side to lay down on his couch. He pulled his legs in, wrapping the blanket around his fetus position.

Lyla walked room to room checking if anything needed to be straightened out. The 7 years she'd been Oliver's manager she grew to care for him like a son, her maternal instincts ironically highlighted by the fact that she had no kids herself.

"Okay well, it seems like everything is fine. We'll leave you to yourself," Lyla sighed. She started gathering her things up off the coffee table. She knew not to pry at let Oliver be until he was ready to express himself.

"Hey Lyla?"

"Yes, Oliver?"

"I'll take it."

"Take what?"

"The job."

* * *

"You tell her."

"No. You tell her."

"No. You! Just.. GO!"

"NO, " Sara adamantly pushed John into Felicity's office. Making him stumble in the room. He looked back at Sara who stayed near the door entrance, holding two thumbs up in the air.

"Tell me what? You two swear I can't hear you two whispering, terribly may I add, outside my door... my door that is open," she said, momentarily glancing away from her computer screen to peer at them over the rims of her glasses.

"Oh you know Felicity, the daily news. There's a lot of those. A lot of terrible ones, ones in the country, outside this country, ones about you…" John stalled.

"What daily news? Daily Hollywood news? You know I'm not into that. But I am into why you're rambling. That's all supposed to be me. So John, why are you rambling?" Felicity paused what she was doing on her computer, lacing her hands together instead. Her eyebrows rose in amusement with John's uneasiness.

"Well you know, Terry turns out was dating Will all along, Samantha was-"

"Oh this is terrifying," Sara, Felicity's assistant slash best friend, interrupts. "Oliver took the role. You two are going to be in the movie together."

"Or yeah, that. That's one of the news too," John quipped.

"Oh," she breathed. It was all she could manage to say.

Of course Felicity knew that this was a possibility. It was either Oliver would take the job or he wouldn't have, and he'd be stupid not to take the job despite if she was going to star opposite him. It was, afterall, a Gerald Sy movie, no actor would have turned it down. Yet a small part of her hoped that he would have, that he would run away; run away just like how he's done before.

She stared off into space, lost in thought, the memories she's tried so hard to forget resurfacing. It's hard not to think of the start when she was barely trying to land a gig in the big city of LA. All of the rejections and hard work had culminate to this movie, this opportunity, and her chest always swells with pride every time she looks back on how far she's come.

But there's a story to beginnings. Every beginning is another story's end.

She had just moved away from her family. Her father a political 'hacktivist' that was too busy trying to expose classified information for open sourcing rather than taking care of his family. Then there was her mom who was stuck, stuck in the marriage, stuck with the job, stuck with her life. Every time Felicity build up her mom's courage to leave her dad, he would say all the things she would want to hear and they were back to square one.

She had no doubt that they loved her, but they weren't the greatest parents. More often times than she'd care to admit, it was her who took care of the family financially and emotionally. When her last straw was finally drawn, it was then she decided that it was time to fulfill her aspirations, do things that would feed her soul.  
So she packed her bags and moved from Las Vegas to Los Angeles.

She acquired unusual jobs, worked unusual times, and met a lot of strange people. But is was the turn of a new tide, a new life. More times than sleeping in a motel or any place with four walls tangent to one another, she slept with four windows around her, her car.

It was when she was a bartender for a sloozy bar that she'd met Sara. She would always come in every night ordering the strongest beer drinking it without crinkling a wince. She never came with another person, always drank the last drop and left. She kept to herself which reminded Felicity a lot about who she was before she'd move to Los Angeles.  
When she decided that enough was enough with her creepily staring at her customer, she invites Sara to a free concert at the coffee place she'd also work at and the rest wast history. They got along easily and before they knew it they moved in together, Sara studying to become a writer while Felicity tried to catch her big break.

It took two years of endless auditions and rejections but it finally came. And it came with Oliv— 

"Earth to Felicity!" Sara waved a hand in front of her face, hurtling Felicity back to the present.

"What?"

"You were spaced out. Like Gravity, The Martian, and Interstellar spaced out."

"Aren't you funny," Felicity replied flippantly.

"You were somewhere. I was trying to pull you back here," Sara explained earnestly.

Felicity halfheartedly smiled, proving her best friend correct.

"Remember what I told you, Felicity, you can pull yourself out of this. Just say the word and I'll tell the producers."

"I've thought about it John. A lot. My brain could shut up about it. And before I knew Oliver was pined to sign on for this role, I was so ecstatic. You know, this is my big break of my big breaks and I won't let him taint that. Just because he's playing opposite me and, well, my love interest which I'm sure would turn into disaster because it kind of already did once I won't back down. Not running away from this opportunity. Nope," she babbled popping the 'p' so hard she'd spit.

"Ok gross," Sara snickered.

John didn't find the humor, crossing his arms making every muscle in his body bulge. "Felicity, you—"

"I've made up my mind John. Thank you so much for your concern, really. I don't mean that in any sarcastic way. I really am grateful. But I have to do this. I want to do this. And what I need from you two is your guidance and support."

"Always."

"Okay, good," Felicity smiled.

She turned her attention back to her computer, trying to finish the flock of emails that she needs to catch up on. After furiously typing away a few sentences she'd notice that neither Sara or John moved from where they stood.

"Anything I can help with you two?"

"Nu-uh. No. You go. You made me say the first thing," John held his hands up in front of him.

Felicity turned her chair to Sara's direction giving her, her full attention. "Yes Sara?"

"Uhhh well… Ummm. You have to shoot some promotional pictured for the movie. Tomorrow. With Oliver."

"Well, shit."


	4. Chapter 4

"You can do this Felicity. Of course you can. I mean, it's only a photoshoot. You've done multiple photoshoots. You've even done one with a kangaroo. A freaking kangaroo! And you hate kangaroos. You can do this. You can survive a photoshoot with Oliver. Albeit he's probably more of a lion than a kangaroo but still. The lion in him won't dare to eat you in front of all the people— UGH," Felicity groaned, face palming herself with the slip of the accidental innuendo.

She sat in the makeup trailer, her nails digging into the arm of the chair for the last hour. She was sure that her nails had been intended in the wood of the chair.  
On the other hand, she thought, she looked good. Of course courtesy of Janice, her makeup artist. Maybe, just maybe, she can hide behind the mask of her makeup.

There was one thing, though, that added to her anxiety and she couldn't cover up. It was the mountainous pimple on her chin. No one wanted to look less than perfect when they knew they were going to bump into their… what exactly was he? Lover? No. They never even made it to that stage. Ex-bestfriend? More fitting, definitely. But they were something a little more than that.

Felicity shook her head trying to physically get rid of the thoughts inside her head.

"You're up next Ms. Smoak," a head popped in the make up room.

"Alright!" Felicity exclaimed a little too excitedly for someone who was not excited. Nervous is more like it.

She hopped off the makeup chair, steadying herself before she left the room. Every step Felicity took closer to the set, the click of the camera became louder, voices became less subdued. She gulped down the gas that dared release through her lips. Not now stomach, she thought.

She rounded around the hallway into the empty living room. The white walls only further accented the sunlight that streamed through the big windows of the studio apartment. Music lightly played in the background. The atmosphere buzzed, making the hairs on the the back of Felicity's neck rise.

She stepped around the backdrop, hoping to sneak a peak if Oliver was already taking his rounds of photos.

Her heart pounded in her chest, preparing herself of the sight of him.

But he wasn't there.

In fact, no one was there. There was only the photographer who was looking in his camera's viewfinder—

"Whatcha looking at?"

Felicity spun around. She spun around fast.

Crack.

The breath had tickled her ears and neck, making her reflexes act in record time.

She hated being tickled.

"Oh! Ugh! Ow!"

She didn't even have the chance to look at the face, all she felt were drops of liquid on her arm. She looked down and all she could see was blood. Blood dripped on her and on the ground. She was about to wipe the blood on her blouse..

"I don't think that's the best idea."

"Shit," Felicity whispered furiously. She whipped her head back up to the voice only too feel her cranium hit another cranium.

"Ow. fuck! You definitely just broke my nose."

Felicity stepped back to prevent any more head butts and examine the damage. "Oh my god. Oh my god. Oliver?! I'm so sorry!"

Oliver's hands covered the bottom half of his face, trying to prevent the blood form getting everywhere. "Please, can you get some tissues?" he muffled.

"Yeah. Oh my god. Yeah of course. You got it."

"Now. Felicity, please."

"Yeah okay," she breathed as she dashed to the bathroom.

She grabbed the roll of toilet paper. In her haste it detached from the holder and sent the whole roll, rolling on the floor.

There was no time. She tugged the whole damn thing, leaving a trail of toilet paper, and ran back.

"Here here here here, " she raised the lengthy roll of toilet paper that left a path from the bathroom.

Felicity tried to pry away his hand, full anxiety kicking in, and dab at his face where blood was smeared. Instead Oliver just caught her wrist.

"Felicity…" he whispered, his voice so raspy that she felt the inclination to clear her throat.

This was the first time that Felicity had her name fall from his lips in over 4 years. He stressed every syllable of her name, his timbre as resembling a prayer, a plea.

"Yeah uh… here," she handed the toilet paper in his other hand. "Let me just get the actual roll so you can have all the toilet papers. Well not all the toilet papers, like, in the world. What I actually meant was toilet paper on the roll to actually be back on that cardboard—"

"Felicity," he said her name again, a little louder, coming out as a questioned amusement.

"Right. Okay, I'll just go get the damn thing."

She turned her heel and retreated back to the bathroom. She kept her head down, cursing all the way. She could swear, though, that she heard the faintest chuckle coming from behind her. Great, now he was laughing at her.

It definitely was not the reunion she'd hope. She always thought she'd be in some long gown, her sun kissed skin illuminating the whole room, making him speechless. Of course she did make him speechless, just not in the way that she'd imagine.

Nothing ever happened the way you dream them to be.

And then of course he bled. She made him bleed. Felicity was pretty sure that, that was some sort of liability on her. She'd mess up his pretty face—

"What?!" she reprimanded herself aloud, her mouth reacting to her thoughts.

"My pretty is face huh?"

Had she said that at loud?

"Yes."

How fantastic. She grumbled something not particularly smart under her breath, crouched down to grab the roll, and then faced him; blues on blues.

Four years has come down to this: toilet paper.

The energy in the air was electric. The atmosphere buzzed in a way that left the hairs on their skin rising, the earlier monotonous hum now vibrating through the air with gusto, galvanizing them both. Felicity's ears began ringing, the tingling from the bottom of her spine making it's way up her body. Her eyes dipped to his pink puckered lips, and she could swear it quivered a bit. Her mouth went dry. She gulped trying to quench her now parched throat.

He moved in closer just the tiniest bit and Felicity for a slightest moment thought he was going to kiss her.

"Thanks. I needed this," he breathed inches away from her face, grabbing the roll.

Oliver retreated his face and Felicity was able to finally breathe, unaware of the breath she'd been holding.

"Felici- Oh my god. What happened to your face Oliver?" Sara asked mortified, face crinkling with the sight of blood.

"I headbutt his nose."

"She headbutt my nose," they explained in unison. Sara smirked in response.

"Twice," Oliver reiterated.

"On accident," Felicity defended.

"Which makes it worse. I think she legitimately broke my nose," Oliver teased.

"Yeah well it doesn't hurt as much as you hurt me."

Sara gasped from the doorway. Oliver's face twisted in hurt but it left as soon as it came. Felicity didn't intend for those words to come out, they just did. She supposes she's not as over it as she tells herself she is.

There was something about the way Oliver joked and teased that just hampered her mood. This is not the past. He can't just act as if everything is alright. Not after all they've been through. Felicity much rather rip off the bandaid and straighten out all that happened then maybe, maybe they can move on and be friends. Again.

"Why'd you say that?" Sara whispered furiously to Felicity.

Felicity just shrugged. She didn't know either.

"Okay well you're up for photos but judging by how Oliver looked with his nose all broken, you two can't take the couple pictures or whatever they call it," Sara waved her hands in front of her face.

"Okay," was all Felicity could manage to say.

Sara ushered Felicity out of the bathroom and back to the set. They placed her in front of the backdrop and told her to smile. She did. She always did, even if it was the most ingenuine smile in the world.

Felicity couldn't help but notice the lack of Oliver around the studio.

He must have left.

Great now she's offended him and possibly jeopardized their working relationship.

Guilt started pooling in the pits of her stomach.

She has to make it right somehow.

"Pssst," Sara tried to get Felicity attention through the flashes if the bulb. "Oliver left. They're gonna check out his nose. If all is well the rest of the photoshoot will just be rescheduled in two weeks."

Felicity nodded, showing Sara she had heard her. Perfect. Now she has two weeks to make up an apology.


	5. Chapter 5

"Well it looks like you did in fact fracture your nose Oliver," Doctor Hidalgo said as he viewed the x-ray in front of the light. "Good news, it doesn't seem too bad so I'd say that the swelling should go down within a week and your nose should be healed within two or three weeks. Though, it might be tender so my best advice is you try and take it easy on the face."

"Oh! That's perfect," Lyla clapped once enthusiastically. "That should put you right on time with the rescheduling of the photoshoot!"

"Who did you get in a fight with now?" Doctor Hidalgo joked.

"My coworker…," Oliver started, "she has a mean head."

"I beg your pardon?"

"She accidentally headbutt me."

"That's new," doctor Hidalgo laughed. "Well, everything should be fine, just ice your nose for the bruising and elevate your head when you sleep. Oh and also, don't get your friend mad."

"Noted."

With that the Doctor left the room leaving Oliver with Lyla. Her eyes inspected him. If Oliver wasn't scared of doctors, he definitely was scared of Lyla.

"You okay?"

"Yep. I'm fine. Doc said it will heal. All good," Oliver offered succinctly, avoiding her eyes.

"No I mean with Felicity. It must have not been easy."

"Lyla, not here please."

"If not here, then when Oliver?"

Oliver looked up at Lyla from where he sat on the examination table. Seconds of inaudible banter passed between them, Oliver ultimately losing with a sigh.

"It was okay. I tried to play it off like the past didn't happen, like we're just some of friends… I guess. Didn't work out as you can tell," Oliver pointed to his nose. "But it's okay. That was an accident. What actually hurt was what she said."

"And what did she say?"

"She said that my nose broken probably didn't hurt as much as I hurt her."

"Ouch."

"Yep," Oliver said popping the 'p' while simultaneously hopping off the examination table.

"On both ends," Lyla signaled to Oliver's nose.

"I'll live."

"You always do."

* * *

Two weeks flew by in a haze, especially when one doesn't have anything to do. His altercation with the paparazzi and numerous other events that had caught him less than in a coherent state virtually left him unemployed. The only one good thing that came out of that is that he learned how to spend his down time. He became in tuned with the silence. It doesn't scream to him anymore. It was now an old friend.

He learned that It's not when a person is alone in a room that they feel most lonely. It's when they're in a room full of people and yet they still feel lonely is when they're most alone.

In the silence, Oliver thought of different scenarios that his and Felicity's first meeting in years could have gone better. The first, maybe he shouldn't have snuck up behind her. Maybe his nose wouldn't have been broken. The second scenario he imagined was he should have visited her in the makeup room. Maybe get in a quick greeting despite the fact that she probably hates him. Instead he had pretended everything was alright when they weren't.  
Oliver made a mental note that the next time they see each other he would apologize, then maybe it could be the start of them moving on. _If not here, then when Oliver?_ Layla's voice echoed in his head. Yeah he's definitely going to talk to her at their photoshoot in an hour.

Oliver shot up from his sofa with the realization the photoshoot was in an hour. The other thing about being attuned with the silence is that it made him lose track of time. It would have not been a big deal prior to him booking the movie, but now he's an employed actor. Employed actors have call times, and more importantly they have to be there _on_ time. Oliver was still getting used to that change.

We walked briskly to his room where he dressed up and hurriedly left his apartment. On his way to his car, he looked at his phone. Lyla had texted and called him four times. He quickly shot her a text saying he was on his way. It was technically true.

"I'm going to make it on time," Oliver encouraged himself as he started his car and made his way out of the parking garage.

 _He did not make it on time_. He was ten minutes late. Albeit it was ten minutes and he has been known to be late for far much longer, he was still late.  
And everyone reminded him of that.

"You're late," Sara smirked holding a lollipop at the entrance of the studio apartment.

"I know. I'm sorry. LA Traffic is horrible."

"Just get in there. They're still setting up and Felicity is still in makeup."

"Great," Oliver smiled out of breath. He started to stride inside the apartment but looked back to Sara. "It's nice to see you again Sara."

"You saw me two weeks ago."

"Briefly. But before that I haven't seen you since Felicity and I's… um… falling out."

Sara smiled, her lips pursed. "It's nice to see you too."

With that Oliver nod his head once and continued to make his way inside the studio. He quickly made it to the costume department where the head stylist Nyssa greeted him, followed by with a "You're late" remark Oliver already knew.

He grabbed his outfit in a haste and went inside one of the changing room. He wanted to be on set before Felicity made it out of makeup for two reasons. One, he doesn't want her to know he was late. That would make him look even more horrible than how she probably perceives him. And two, he wanted a chance to tell him he's sorry about everything. It might not be the time nor the place but he felt it was crucial for their new working relationship.

He stepped out of the changing room and faced Nyssa.

"All good?" He asked, raising a thumb up.

"Ohp. No no no. Wrong shirt. Here," she said, finding the right shirt on the rack and throwing it to Oliver.

"Alright," Oliver grunted, shimming out of his top, desperately trying to get dressed.

He was midway putting on the new shirt when he heard footsteps and a knock.

"Hey Nyssa I was just— Oh. Oliver. Oh. Wow."

Oliver froze, arms in the air, shirt stuck resting between his head and upper chest blocking his eyes.

"Felicity?" he asked through his shirt.

"Yeah… uh… it's me. You wouldn't know though. You can't see me. Duh. Obviously."

Oliver tried to pull his shirt down smoothly to no avail. It crumpled at the back and made sliding down his body more difficult than normal.  
Once his clothes were all in place, he couldn't help but notice the flush in Felicity's cheeks seeing him shirtless. His stomach somersaulted at the thought.

"Sorry about that."

"No it's okay," she mumbled through her small smile. "I was wondering if you had a second?"

"Yeah. Of course."

Oliver followed Felicity out of the room. He caught Nyssa giving him a thumbs up on the way out. Whether it was for his outfit finally correct or Felicity wanting to talk to him, he'll never know.  
Felicity stopped at a corner, turned her heel, and faced him.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

"Excuse me? What? It should be me whose saying sorry," Oliver pointed to himself.

"Well you didn't break my nose," Felicity deadpanned.

"Yeah but I think we both know I've done much worse."

It took a moment for Felicity to answer, looking down when she finally said, "Yes."

Oliver had an overwhelming need to put his hand under her chin and lift up her face. Instead he pinched his thumb and index finger together to suppress the urge.

"No. You don't need to be sorry. It's me who's sorry, Felicity. For everything. For the past. I know I broke your trust and I was a douchebag. I've learned. I've grown. I like to think that I'm actually a real man now," Oliver lightly chuckled. "Lyla thinks otherwise."

"Lyla will always think otherwise. You're like, her son, her little boy," Felicity smiled, one corner of her lips slightly lifting higher than the other. Oliver realized she was teasing him. She's calling him a little boy. She was really, actually, _teasing_ him.

"Yeah," Oliver smiled feeling the air around them lighten. "I know that this is not the time nor place but it just had to be said. I'm sorry, truly. You don't have to say anything. You don't have to say 'it's okay' because it's still probably not." They haven't talked about it… _maybe then_.

"Thank you," Felicity whispered earnestly.

"And plus, we have to get along. We're co-workers now."

"Yeah. Weird to say that. Co-workers," Felicity tried the word on her lips. "Eck. It sounds so…"

"Dignified?"

"Yeah."

"It's too weird."

"Agreed."

"Friends?"

"Friends," they both beamed flashing pairs of dimples that mirrored each other.

 _Baby steps_ , Oliver thought as they both were called to set.

Oliver knew that they just became friends again within the last half hour but this friendship was definitely already being put to a test. Comfortability wise, that is.  
Sure Felicity and him had been comfortable with each other before, when they were best friends, but now they're rebuilding. They're barely even friends.

The photographer, Miles, was exceptional. He had them posing in positions that the normal body didn't bend. He knew the exact shot he wanted, the moment she saw them in his mind. He would tell Oliver to place his hands on Felicity's waist or legs or shoulders that would momentarily paralyze Felicity.  
Every time his hand moved to a new spot he would ask her if it was okay. She would nod but Oliver can't miss the fact that she avoided using her voice to tell him it was.

"Alright, all we need are headshot and then we're finished!"

"Cool."

"Great," Oliver and Felicity responded at the same time.

"Alright, for this shot I need you both facing each other."

Oliver and Felicity did as what they were told.

"Great! Okay, now Felicity if you would please wrap your arms around his neck."

"Uhhh okay…" Felicity said unsurely. "I'm just gonna-" She squeaked as she wrapped her arms around his neck. _They were so close…_

He was sure she could feel his warm breaths grazing the top of her head and she looked down to her feet. She shuddered. She actually shuddered. He wanted so bad to caress her back and help her ease the nerves.

But he can't do that.

Instead he pinched his index and thumb finger together for the second time that day.

"Good. Okay. Now Oliver, please place you hands on her waist."

 _He_ _was about to do that anyways_.

Oliver gingerly placed his hands on the curve of her body. Some weird charged filled the air. Static shocked them both garnering the tiniest gasp from Felicity. If they weren't so close he wouldn't have heard it, but she was just _right there_.

Absentmindedly her worked his thumb back and forth her waist, to which her gaze travelled up to his eyes. He offered her the smallest smile that she reciprocated.

 _Flash. Flash. Flash._

"That was perfect you two!" Miles exclaimed enthusiastically clapped. He contemplated a second before finished his sentence. "Okay second thought, I don't want this to be a typical promotional shot of a romance movie. I want this to be fun, intrinsic, organic. You two were friends right?"

Oliver and Felicity's eyes went wide. Their past friendship and closeness wasn't a secret to the media, but with their fallout and sudden stop of spending time with each other the media became uninterested. Sure there were speculations that there was something more going on between them but there were always other people that they were linked to. Him, anyways. Not Felicity. And that was the end of it all.

Felicity cleared her throat. "Yeah, we were friends. We are friends," the pitch of her voice ascended as she tried to laugh it off.

"Great. Good! You two should be comfortable enough. Just do what you two do and I'll just get the best shots."

It took a couple of good seconds before what Miles said registered in their brain, and when it did they just faced each other with a great deal of uncertainty.

What did they use to do before? It had been so long.

But Felicity did something unexpected. She jumped. More precisely she jumped on his back. If his reaction time was a second slower, he would have dropped her. She squealed and laughed at the almost drop. Thankfully he caught her legs in time and readjusted to secure her position. When her piggy back attempt was how a piggy back should be structured, Oliver found his stomach bubbling; a bubble that worked its way up his throat and to his mouth releasing a giggle. He giggled. He damn giggled. He never giggled.

"Did you just giggle?" Felicity poked her head to the right side of his face.

"No."

"Yeah you did."

"No."

"Okay," she drew out her response. "But maybe this will." She gingerly poked along his spine.

"Felici—ty," Oliver warned, his voice breaking.

"What?"

"Don't… do that please."

"Why not?" Felicity challenged.

"Because."

"Because?" She asked, poking further down his back.

"I— Oooooh. No. Stop. Stop tickling me."

"Like this?" She poked and grabbed at his waist.

Oliver trembled. He tried to contain his laughter, making his skin flush red as his muscles twitched trying hard not to be affected by her light touch. If his knees buckled, they were both going down.

And they did.

His knees gave making him drop to his knees as Felicity started slipping from his grasp. He tried to save her fall, whipping around fast to grab her. But as he tried to reach out for her, she reached out for him, grabbing his arm to help catch her fall. Instead of pulling herself up, Felicity grabbed Oliver down with her sending him tumbling to the floor on top of her.

There was laughter around the room and much to Oliver's surprise, laughter coming out of Felicity too. Despite their predicament he couldn't help but admit the ridiculousness that just happened. So he laughed too. He laughed along with her. It felt good to laugh with her again.

 _Flash. Flash. Flash._

The flare of the camera's flash was like a palate cleanser. It was as if someone doused them with water waking them up from a dream. All the sudden Felicity's laughter subsided as she became very aware of the position they were in; how closer they are than they were minutes ago. If one of them would have puckered their lips, they would have been kissing.

"Oliver. You're like, really heavy."

"Yeah. I'm sorry," Oliver grunted as he pushed himself up and off of her. He held out his hand for her, to which she took hesitantly. The playful Felicity had passed and Oliver wondered if this is who she is now, someone with a fiery, strong, passionate spirit who tried to mask it all with conscientiousness.

If he were correct, he also has to admit one fact: It was his mistake that made her want to hide who she truly is as a person.

And there was one thing he was hellbent to do: bring that side of her back, whatever it takes.


	6. Chapter 6

The days leading up to the actual production of the movie had been uneventful. That is until the producers asked her and Oliver to spend some time getting to know each other in order to have that bond and chemistry Eliza and Paul, their characters, have in the movie.

Felicity wants to be friends again. They are, but more precisely she wants to have an easy going friendship with him, unlike this current situation where they walk on eggshells around each other. She understands, though. They were testing the waters, determining where to draw the line, and learn when not to cross it.

The first few times they hung out, they didn't do much. They got coffee, made small talks, and then they went their separate ways. It was actually quite interesting to Felicity. She saw the small changes in his demeanor, action, and personality. She saw the small crinkle his eyes made when he laughed too hard and his dimples that seemed to contrast the starkness of his face. But she could still see the guy that she once considered her best friend. Maybe they could be again, best friends that is, but it would take some time.

Aside from trying to take their friendship slow, there was the other factor that cut their time short: the paparazzi. Sooner or later the news will break that Oliver Queen is back on the big screen, but they would much rather have that known later than now. The thing about the media is that it contorts and inflate pretty much everything. That was not something they needed. Eventually someone is going to do some digging and find out that they were once close. 'Sources' they called them. What a bunch of bullshit.

So they kept it light. They kept it easy.

Unbeknownst to both of them, not for that long.

"Felicity?"

"Yep? Over here!"

"Hey? What are you doing out here?" John questioned Felicity, an eyebrow lifting as he took in the scenery. She sat at her office balcony, somewhere she never quite visited.

"Nothing. Just catching up on some reading," she said as she held up the book _How to Kill a Rockstar_ , the same book they were adapting into movie. "I must say. It's phenomenal."

"Yeah? Great. Well coincidentally I have this for you," John held up the script that was in his hands. Felicity sprung from her chair and grabbed the papers from John.

"Oh wow. I didn't expect the revision to be finished so fast. Hopefully it does the book some justice. The book is great."

"Keyword being hopefully," John gave her a pointed look.

"Right," she drawled. "It'll be good. Of course it'll be good. It's Anthony LaBount and Gerald Sy who are producing it. Laurel Lance wrote the script. It's good. I'm good," she rambled.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"What is there to talk about?"

"Oh for heaven's sake," John groaned. "Not this again. You act like you don't know what I'm trying to point out and talk about."

"Well maybe if you stop trying to point things out and just say it straight to me," Felicity shot back playfully.

"Fair enough," John nodded and sat down. "How has the 'getting to know each other' thing been going?"

Felicity tittered. This was weird. It took a while for her to gather her thoughts. How did it really go? She overanalyzed everything about Oliver, but not once has she analyzed anything about herself. Hearing the question in person made it all the more real.

"I don't know John. I guess you can say it's been going okay. It has been all small talks, really. Talks about LA, the people we've met, the jobs we've done, or lack of, in his case. It's been nice, if I'm being completely honest. There's this… warmness. If you know what I mean. It's kind of like rediscovering old songs- sometimes it's better than learning of new ones."

"What do you think of him?"

"He's changed and I see the changes. It's in the way he talks, the way he walks, his laughs- the small things. It's less, I don't know," Felicity scratched her head trying to find the right word, "hallow? Or not hallow because really, what do I know of Oliver. I practically don't know the dude and who he is now. I just know how he's changed."

"Felicity if you keep focusing on how he's changed, that suggests one thing: you never really forgot about who he was. Give him a chance. Forget about who he was and take in who he is. I know you. If you keep focusing on that, it's going to keep you from enjoying and appreciating him. You'll fail to appreciate the now, fail to appreciate the carefreeness, and you'll only have that brief sullied happiness. Which, by the way, is not really happiness."

Felicity let John's words sink in her mind, the rustling and bustling of the Los Angeles street serving as a white noise.  
Finally, she smiled.

"How long have you waited to tell me that?"

"Oh sweet potatoes I have waited forever to tell you that," John laughed. She knew. He knew. They both knew. It may have taken all this time for either one of them to vocalize and admit it, but they've known.

"Thanks John. You know all the right words to say."

"I'm John Diggle," he said holding out his hands.

"And you're the best manager, friend, brother someone could ask for."

John cleared his throat. "We're really close to hugging territory and I'm going to go before I cry."

Felicity laughed as he got up his seat and made his way out her office, not before leaving with a wink. Felicity smiled at the door long after he was gone reminding herself to be one with the moment and not feel like she has to constantly build her walls up again and again.

Minutes passed before the wind rustled breaking her trance. She tightened her grip on the papers, trying to prevent them from flying away.  
She flipped through the pages eventually landing on the page where Oliver's character, Paul, was introduced. _Funny_ , she thought. Oliver wasn't the person she would peg to portray Paul. For starters Paul was supposed to be tall yet lanky, and Oliver was not someone considered to be lanky. Paul's kind of awkward, Oliver is different sorts of mysterious. Paul was neither the typical textbook hot guy and Oliver, much to Felicity's refusal to admit, is. The only thing missing were the tattoos, but then again, now she couldn't be too sure.

The more Felicity thought about it the more she's starting to realize that Oliver is nowhere fit to play Paul. That one rising actor Barry Allen fit more the description. Yet, Oliver managed to nab the part. Hell, he managed to be offered the part without an auditions made. She could chalk it up to conspiracy, but that would garner too much attention and thought. She was already tired from reading too much.

Felicity got up from her chair and made her way inside her office. She plopped herself down on the computer chair and powered on her computer. She should probably know better to read and reply to emails after a long day of already reading, but she was a rebel.

She scrolled through her inbox, replying to the urgents ones. None caught her attention all too much, it was all the ordinary request for interviews and spam, emails she shouldn't have been receiving. She yawned in response and was going to exit out of the browser when her computer chimed signaling of a new email.

 _Subject: Another hang out?_

 _Fr: Oliver Queen_

Her spine straightened upon seeing the new mail. She clicked it right away and read:

 _Felicity,_

 _Hey! I was wondering if you'd like to go out again? I know that every one of our, what should you call it, hang outs(?) have been cut short so I would really like if we can get together and spend some time talking about the characters, the book, the script. I'm assuming that you have gotten the script? If not that's okay we can glance over mine. Let me know when you're free. I'm free anytime. (Kind of unemployed still.)_

 _Unemployed and hoping,_

 _Oliver_

She laughed. Her fingers had a mind of it's own typing away:

 _Oliver,_

 _You're technically not unemployed, just have a lot of free time from now until production. I'm free this Saturday. Where should we meet?_

 _I'm not that busy,_

 _Felicity_

A new mail chimed in her inbox almost immediately.

 _Felicity,_

 _My place? Going out and about will be more hectic than productive. Guess word is coming out that failed actor Oliver Queen is back on the big screen. Yikes._

 _Saturday sounds good,_

 _Oliver_

Felicity was sure there was some rule about replying too fast, but she could care less.

 _Oliver,_

 _Your place sounds good. I actually have my script and a copy of the book. I'll bring it over. See you then._

 _Stop referring to yourself in third person. It's creepy._

 _See you soon,_

 _Felicity_

Another mail:

 _Felicity,_

 _Oliver will see you on Saturday._

 _Cheers,_

 _Oliver_

She chuckled reading the mail and powered off her computer before she could stare at the mail longer than necessary.

"Saturday," she whispered to herself.

She shouldn't care what she looked like, but she did. Felicity threw the third shirt she tried over her head and onto the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

 _This is ridiculous_ , she thought. So she decided to close her eyes and the next shirt she happens to pick will be the one.

"Great," she muttered, "a v-neck."

She put it on, threw on some ripped black pants, booties, and left her house before she had a chance to think twice. Her outfit screamed, "I tried, but not too much."

The drive to the Oliver's apartment consisted a lot of squealing, most of it was Felicity trying to not turn back to her house, but finally she made it with a few minutes to spare. She tried to gather her equilibrium to no avail. She eventually just let out a big grunt and kicked her door open.

She knocked three times and was greeted with an apron outfitted Oliver.

"Oh hey you! Come on in," he signaled. "I was just making some food in case you haven't ate yet."

"Oh no. I'm so sorry. I didn't have time to bring anything over. I'm so sorry!" She was too busy freaking over what she was going to wear out to even think about that.

"No biggie. I didn't want you to bring anything. No- that didn't come off right. I mean I didn't want you to bring anything because you're the guest and I'm the host- evidently- and I'm the one who's supposed to serve you. So really what I mean is that I didn't want you to go through all that trouble of bringing something." 

He's rambling. She thought only she did that. He's nervous too.

"No offense taken," she chuckled reaching out and touching his arm, surprising even her. He zeroed in on her touch and her skin flushed pink. _Damn her mindless body._ Before she could sulk in thought about what she had done, the aroma of food caught her attention. "Mmmm! What is that smell?"

"Chicken cordon bleu."

"You cook?"

"I have to fend for myself somehow. You hungry?"

"Didn't realize I was until now."

"Great! Let me just get my script and we'll talk it over. Make yourself feel at home."

With that Oliver left to the kitchen disposing of his apron and made his way to his room. Felicity sat herself down on the couch taking out her script to busy herself and not spy around the room. But she's only human. She failed.  
She glanced around his living room, a typical bachelor's pad. It was surprisingly neater than how she remembered he use to organize his place. It wasn't the same apartment, he used to have a house, but she had heard he sold that land and moved somewhere smaller. That rumor was true, she supposed. 

"Here you go," Oliver emerged from the kitchen, two plates at hand, the script tucked under his arm.

"Oh. I could have grabbed some myself, but thank you."

"You're the guest, remember? Ok. Let's see what we have here," He said as he sat folding his feet under him, next to her on the couch. He started flipping through the pages, reading some notes he wrote. "Okay, first is first. What do you think about the script? Have you finished it?"

"No. I'm actually trying to finish the book first. I'm almost done and it's so great. The way she describes things and the quotes has me highlighting almost every page."

"Yeah!" Oliver agreed enthusiastically. "What's your favorite?"

"Mmm. On the top of my head I remember, 'You can't judge a man solely on his actions. Sometimes actions are nothing more than re actions.' How about you? What's your favorite?"

"That one was pretty good," he agreed. "But the one that really caught me was 'There's a big difference between being alone and being lonely. And I'm guessing that once you've discovered this distinction you can't go back to solitary confinement without serious emotional repercussions.' It was something I experienced so it really spoke volumes for me."

She could smile at him, but it didn't feel right. Not after he pretty much admitted that he had been lonely for quite some time. Instead she just looked at him, and he looked back. There was an understanding that passed between them. They were two souls scarred the same place in different ways. The masks, the vanity, the smiles for the media, it was all bullshit. It may have been shitty that they were complaining given they lived a better life than most people, but everyone has a burden they carry; theirs was just superfluous and superficial.

Their conversations carried throughout the day filled with laughs. They talked about the book, the script, their characters, their aspirations, other actors, and time just rolled on.

It was kind of reminiscent of the first time they met. They had hit it off right away. Oliver  
was, arguably, the biggest rising actor and Felicity was just starting in the business. Felicity was set to do a screen test with Tommy, back when he was acting, but when Tommy couldn't make it on time Oliver had stepped in for his friend to read through lines with her. Suffice to say their chemistry was off the charts and the producers re-casted and re-wrote some parts to fit Oliver, Tommy, and Felicity in the movie.  
Back then, she never thought that she could get along with Oliver much less be his best friend, but he had spark in him that other people failed to see. Maybe he had kept it hidden from various people, but she had seen right through him. During their break, he was ordering some PA's around to get him outrageous things. She clearly saw that he was pranking them, so she told him to 'cut the shit out'. They got along ever since. The movie only strengthened their bond as they learned ways to drive each other crazy, not paying attention to the rest of the world that paid attention to people like them; to the people with their profession.

It had been a freeing experience for Oliver not to have someone use him for the fame or the money, but to appreciate who he really is as a person. For Felicity it was a learning experience as she learned more of the business through Oliver's lens, as well as finding a piece of herself she didn't know existed in her trouble ridden home- a happy Felicity. They both understood each other in ways the other didn't even know about their self. So when shit hit the fan, it had devastated her when he chose something other than the truth- the Oliver the world saw, not the Oliver she knew was under the mask.

They both changed each other when they met and they changed each other when they walked out each other's lives. Here sitting on his couch, Felicity can't shake the feeling they're lives are changing yet again.


	7. Chapter 7

Oliver woke up to the sun streaming through his window creating a warm feeling in his chest. For the first time in a long time he greeted the day with a genuine smile on his face. Last night with Felicity, it felt good- it felt right. Their conversations were easy, and when they ventured off to the heavier topics his breath was taken away by her wisdom. He'd be lying though if he said he wasn't nervous. Particularly he was nervous that she would find his cooking miserable, but the opposite happened. She ate seconds, even thirds. By the end of the night in their food coma, slightly buzzed by wine state, something was mended. Being near each other isn't awkward anymore. They're probably not going to be exchanging their secrets soon, but they're not tiptoeing around each other any longer.

Progress.

Oliver rolled over and grabbed his phone on his nightstand, scrolling through his various mails and messages. He groggily read through them until he scrolled down to find Felicity had left a text. The sight of her name had him sitting up in a haste.

Felicity: _Thanks for having me over. I had loads of fun. Again today? At my place or for coffee?_

He smiled. They're taking turns.

Oliver: _I would love to get coffee. But you know, you can just ask me if you wanted to hang out. Haha._

He's teasing her. Or is it flirting? Was it too pretentious or cocky? He can't tell which. He was so out of his game.

He added an _'I'm just kidding'_ at the end of the 'haha' to make sure Felicity understood. A couple minutes he quickly hit send refusing to overthink his reply.

Felicity: _I just rolled my eyes so hard I legitimately was scared they would roll out my eye socket.  
_  
Oliver snorted.

Oliver: _What is it with us that we constantly physically impale each other?_

He stared at the screen that was indicating she was already typing.

Felicity: _It was an accident, but maybe the next one won't be. Which body part should target next?_

Oliver: _You're evil. I'm not going to engage in this particular conversation further in fear of my bodily parts. Instead I will just meet you for coffee later today._

Felicity: _P.S. Avoiding the conversation doesn't keep you any safer. See you later._

Oliver chuckled at her reply and got up earlier than usual to get ready for the day.

Oliver was speed walking, more like running, to the cafe. He was late, again. But for very good reasons that he can't tell her: he was making an effort to look extra good. Oliver shook his head at the thought. When has he ever like this?

A few more minutes of speed walking, Oliver finally arrived at the cafe spotting Felicity right away. He didn't even have to try. Her blonde hair was illuminated by the sun… and a flash. A flash?

He scoured around him to find some dozers across the street taking pictures of Felicity. They were inevitably going to see him considering he was making his way to her as well. They should probably get out of there sooner rather than later.

Spotting him, she smiled. "You're late."

Oliver made it a point to sit in front of her, the back of his head blocking the view from outside the window where the dozers were angled to take their pictures. He knew how much she despised them.

"Got caught up. Sorry about that."

"It's okay. I haven-"

"Felicity?"

"Yeah?"

"There's some paps across the street that got some shots of you. We should leave soon probably."

"Yeah?" she questioned. She tried to peer behind his shoulders but couldn't catch a sight of them. "Yep just- we'll just grab our drinks and head to my place. It's near here anyways."

They ordered their drinks together, every move designed to keep their faces away from the paps. Though they should be somewhat accustomed to dozers trying to take pictures, they weren't. Not one celebrity was probably used to it. It was different every time. Oliver's anxiety started to spike as he imagined the obscenities they were going to yell at them, the questions…  
Felicity's hand landed on his forearm, sensing his panic.

"It's okay. The worst they're going to do is yell at you. I just make it a point to ignore them."

One of his eyebrows rose. "Since when were you so calm about them dozers?"

Felicity scrunched her nose. "I don't know. They still freak me out, but not as much. I've somewhat learned to tune them out. They don't do much if you don't."

"Eliza? Paul?" The barista called out the names, their character's names, they used trying to not cause a blunder.

Oliver grabbed their drinks off the counter and handed Felicity her coffee.

"Careful. Hot."

"Yep. Yup." As they turned around the flashes of bulbs increased ten fold and they were faced with a sea full of paparazzi.

"We should go," Oliver said eyes wide.

Stuck in his place, Felicity maneuvered him through the cafe and out. Right as they opened the door the yelling started.

"FELICITY!"

"OLIVER!"

"ARE YOU TWO A THING?"

"OLIVER YOU'RE OUT AN ABOUT. NO ONE HAS SEEN YOU FOR OVER A YEAR!"

"WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?!"

"WHY DON'T YOU TWO SMILE FOR A BIT? AWW C'MON!"

"Felicity! LOOK OVER HERE SWEETHEART!"

The toxic lure of the man's tone caught Oliver's attention. He has to get out of there, rather, he has to get _her_ out of there. Oliver mustered up the strength he could garner inside him and together they led each other across the street where Felicity's driver was waiting. As soon as the door closed the commotion and screaming left alongside it, but the internal struggle remained with Oliver. His body was left a little tense, his breathing shallow, his eyes a million miles away.

"Are you okay Oliver?" Felicity asked worriedly, her eyebrows scrunching forming lines between them.  
The concern laced in her voice pulled him back as he shook his head trying to physically remove his mental scuffle. He cleared his voice to try to make his voice more believable. "Yeah I'm fine."

"I get it," she replied solemnly. "But you don't have to wear a mask, you know. Not with me."  
He smiled down at her. Suddenly he had the urge to reach out and caress her cheek but he refrained the itch. "It's just that, that back there was the first time since my altercation with that one pap last year. It just brought back bad memories, that's all," he tried to smile.

"Oh." Felicity looked down. That.

"Yeah. It's okay. It wasn't too bad," Oliver tried to smile off. "It wasn't them I was really worried about. It was me. How I would respond, what I'd want to do. If I'd get triggered."

"Did any of those happened?"

"My anxiety shot up. But if you were wondering if any of the 'I want to kick his ass' vibe ticked at me, no. Well-" he paused, "only when that one guy called to you and it was just… not good. I just wanted to get you out of there safely."

Felicity sharply inhaled. "That's— incredibly thoughtful."

Oliver smiled.

"Well, if I'm being honest more than I lead you out there, you lead me out there. If you weren't I might have just frozen up.

But considering those dozers weren't too bad. Not as bad as the one I've encountered. Last year when that whole thing happened, it was just plain bad. I hadn't really been in a good place for about a couple and then some years," Oliver cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. She'd known that he was talking about them severing ties. "Going out every weekend kind of became my thing despite my team, and especially Lyla, telling me that I was going to lose my endorsements and contracts with some few big companies if I kept going at it. But at the time I just… didn't care. I still partied hard. The media capitalized on that. They thrived off it. 'Hollywood hotshot spiraling' is a trope that apparently never gets old, and I'd be lying if I didn't say it didn't amuse me. Anyways, eventually they would find me hopping from one party to another, one bar to another, and I'd always try to evade them. It was my little game of cat and mouse. They wanted me? They could come and get me.

And get me, they did. One night I was just too hammered and my so called 'friends' wanted to hit up another spot. Despite just wanting to stay in that club, I went with them. As we were leaving the club one of the paps were particularly saying explicit things about me, about everyone I've been associated with. I wish I could say I snapped, or maybe I did, but it didn't feel like that. One minute I was walking, the next I bashing his camera on the floor. My friends never helped me and I guess they just left. I was arrested and charged. The next following days every job that was in the works for me suddenly wasn't in the works any longer, and everyone who I thought I could rely on wasn't there for me to lean on.  
Except Lyla. She never gave up on me. She had every reason to give up on me, but she didn't. And for that I owe her everything.  
A few weeks or months probably passed before one day I sat down and took stock of what was important to me and set a goal to achieve every single one of them to prove to myself that I'm not just some asshole with a face."

"Wow," Felicity puffed her cheeks. "That's heavy."

"I've have some time to let it go. Do I wish it never happened? Yeah. But then again I probably would still be an asshole."

"With a face," Felicity finished.

"That's right. An asshole with a face," Oliver chuckled lightly.

Felicity gingerly placed her hand on his, squeezing it before letting go. A little token to tell him he wasn't alone.

They sat the rest of the ride to Felicity's house in silence.

Oliver doesn't get nervous too often. There had only been a handful of circumstances he would clam up. Him being out of practice while trying to prove something, prove himself, and not being completely confident is not a good combination.

It was the cast's first and only read through of the the whole movie before they started shooting. Being known to arrive late probably was not going to play in his favor so he decided to leave his apartment 30 minutes early. Except he got there a little too early. He opened the door to the conference room and was met with an empty room except for one person. He checked the number outside the door making sure it was the correct room. After verifying it was in fact the right room he found a seat across a dude whose chair turned the other way. He was occupied by his phone that he was currently whispering furious into not even hearing Oliver enter.

He tried to keep busy by looking around the blank white walls, anything other than acknowledging the nervous energy that was burning in the pits of his stomach. He folded his hands in front on him, closed his eyes, and focused on his breaths. He was at his 56th inhale when a voice broke through his counting.

"Oliver Queen?" Oliver slowly peered his eyes open at the sound of his name. "Wow. Hi! Big fan of yours. Barry Allen," the guy, Barry, practically squealed holding his hand out.  
Oliver reached out and shook it.

"Likewise. Really big fan as well." Of course, who didn't know of Barry Allen? Arguably he was the present day's Oliver Queen minus all the douchebagary that he used to be, or more precisely acted to be.

"Early birds huh?" Barry acknowledged the empty room.

"Yeah," Oliver chuckled. "I have a reputation of being late. I kind of wanted to change that.  
Sorry, not to be rude. But which character are you playing?"

"Oh no offense taken, truly. If I'm being honest I was casted literally about two days ago and I suppose the word hasn't gone out yet. It was back and forth which character I should play or if I should even be part of the cast, but ultimately the producers and the casting director pinned me to play Michael."

"Oh. Eliza's brother?"

"Yep! And by relations kind of like your brother-in-law," Barry laughed.

"They get married?" Oliver cocked his head to the side not recollecting anything about a wedding in the book.

"Well, that's shorter for saying you're my movie sister's boyfriend."

"True," Oliver laughed. "Which other character were they going back and forth on you with?"

"Loring."

"Oh, Loring," Oliver's tone rose the tiniest bit. "If I was being honest, you seem more like Paul."

"Yeah," Barry said sheepishly, bowing his head the smallest bit. "I didn't want to actually say that because then it seems like I want to take your job," he chuckled nervously.

Oliver couldn't help but grin watching Barry so nervous. If only Barry knew how nervous he was at this exact moment.

"Don't worry about it. I actually have thought of the same thing. I was surprised when they asked me to play Paul, well, be in the movie at all."

"I'm sure they have their reasons."

Just then the door opened and various people walked in, coffee and papers in hand. Oliver and Barry stood from their seat as they recognized Steven Sy and Anthony LaBount walk in the room.

"Oliver! Barry! Nice to have you two finally here," Steven smiled. The two men reached their arms out for a handshake, the nervousness apparent in their stature.

Conversations buzzed the room as more people arrived. Oliver and Barry found themselves ease into easy conversations about the industry and previous works they've done. The nervousness that dared paralyze Oliver now simmered into a manageable burn that fueled him to do the best he could in this project.

One of the production assistant started to place name plate on the desk to make it easier knowing which person played which character. Before he could even read the name plate placed next to him, the seat the next to him pulled out and Oliver was hit with the scent of vanilla and strawberry.

"Would you look at that, I'm seated next to you," the blonde chirped as she plopped herself down on the chair.

"Felicity Smoak is late," Oliver gasped mockingly.

"I am not late."

"You are."

"Am not."

"Steven and Anthony arrived before you did. That's considered late for your standards."

"Yes, but technically it's 9:58 which means I'm early for the 10 o'clock call time."

Oliver stared at her, no comebacks coming to his brain. "You're still late," was all he could manage to say. How pathetic, he thought.

"You're early," Felicity bit back. "Which actually- wow. You're early. When has this ever happened?"

"Your shock pains me."

"Just stating the truth," Felicity shrugged.

"I wanted to make a good impression. And if I'm being honest, I'm nervous," Oliver whispered the last bit, bringing his mouth near her ear.

"Don't worry, you'll do great. These things are not too big of a deal."

"Yeah well, I haven't really been in one of these for some time so it is a big deal. For me, anyways."

"Aww, Oliver," Felicity patted his back. "Well you just have to read through your lines. Really, this is more for the execs than us. They want to see which line works and which lines doesn't. You don't have to hit your mark or be aware of which way you have to angle your face and body. You just have to read, you just have to exist."

Oliver smiled in reply, not knowing what to say.

"And don't worry, I'm right here next to you," Felicity said this time patting his hands.

"Thank you, really."

They stayed smiling at each other for a beat until Steven Sy's voice and claps to gather the room interrupted their little exchange.

"Thank you everyone for being here. Well, you have to be here. But nonetheless thank you everyone for showing up. Uhh every one has their scripts, yes?" He scanned around the room as various people held their scripts up, a way to saying 'yes'. "Alright! Well it seems we have our Eliza, Paul, Michael, and Vera played by Felicity, Oliver, Barry, and Iris respectively. Now we're just waiting for our Loring who is played b-"

"Sorry I'm late," a tall husky black haired guy breathed through the door.

"Ah! And our wait for Loring is over. Ray is our Loring," the producer smiled as Ray was melted with a few claps and smiles. "I think your seat over there next to Ms. Smoak."

"Right." He made his way around the room, finding the vacant chair next to Felicity. "Hi," he smiled quickly at her, and Oliver couldn't help but notice Felicity returning a full on smile back.

"Alright, let's start!"

The other exec Anthony served as the narrator throughout the script naming off the cast first and then diving right into the intro of the script. Oliver tried to push away the gnawing jealousy that sparked in him just moments ago, instead he tried to focus on nailing the hell out of his lines.

The table read went seamless, fluid, and time passed. Before he knew it, they were nearing the end of the script and then actually finishing the table read. Ninety eight percent of his attention went to his lines and the other two percent focused on Ray, just his demeanor, his act, the way he read his lines. Oliver must admit that the guy knew what he was doing and was perfectly casted as Loring, which didn't help to his newfound jealousy considering he still doesn't comprehend why he was casted as Paul. He didn't even fit the description of Paul. He couldn't even play a guitar, much less sing.

He shook his head. This was ridiculous. He was being ridiculous.  
As they all got up to leave, Barry tapped on his shoulders.

"I know why they casted you as Paul."

"Oh?"

"You're obviously great playing the 'in his world' kind of dude and well," Barry leaned to Oliver trying to whisper the next part, "you're chemistry with Felicity? Unprecedented."

"Um. Thanks," Oliver said, coming out more as a question than gratitude.

With that Barry picked up his jacket and winked at him before exiting the room.


End file.
